Empathy's Sorrows
by dillyydallyy
Summary: Both Mr. Carson and Mrs. Patmore have noticed some changes in their friend. Definitely S5 spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I wrote this story over the past two days. I'm a sucker for angsty stuff, so be forewarned! To be quite honest, this story is kind of my way of dealing with my feelings at the moment, and to bring a little awareness into the world. :)**

**Set after the Becky conversation but before the proposal.**

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Today is proving to be an absolute wretched day.

It started in bed the previous night. Her inability to fall asleep is something of a commonality nowadays. It's a bit worrisome considering she usually gets a good night's rest. She's not sure if it's age or stress of the job or something more. Generally as people age they get more tired, so that couldn't be it. The job is nothing different than it was twenty years ago, at least in terms of workload, and there are no special events or dinner parties coming up so stress really is out of the question. Maybe it's just one of those "off" days.

Exhausted but restless, she washed and dressed early. Downstairs, she found Beryl Patmore in the kitchen beginning breakfast. She was shocked at her presence, but not as shocked as the first time it happened.

"What are you doing up so early, _again_?" questioned Mrs. Patmore, beating eggs in a large bowl.

"Sleep seems to be my enemy," answered Mrs. Hughes, as she tried to stifle a yawn.

"This has been happening quite a bit. If you keep this up, you'll crash and sleep for days!"

"I'm sure it's nothing. Everyone has those days."

"Yes but you seem to be having several of those days, which have been accumulating to weeks."

Wanting to change the subject, she inquired, "What do you need help with?"

"Oh don't you worry about it, I've got a handle on things. Although, you could pass me that bowl over by the oven."

She walked over to the counter with the bowl, conversing with Beryl about Daisy's lessons. When she picked up the bowl, she didn't realize how heavy it was nor how weak she seems to have gotten. The bowl shattered on the cement floor, pieces flying in every direction, including on her feet.

"Oh dear! Are you alright?" Beryl hurried over to Elsie who was standing with her eyes closed. Beryl gently laid her hand on Elsie's arm and repeated her question. Her eyes opened as she let out a sigh. "Oh I'm fine" she said, frustration in her voice. "I'm just a fool for letting it slip out of my hands."

"No worries dear, it's just a bowl. There's not too many pieces to pick up. It will be cleaned in a jiffy."

Together they carefully picked up the shards and disposed of them. Elsie decided to retreat to sitting room, irritation still boiling.

Breakfast came and she didn't have the slightest ounce of hunger in her. She tried to take some bites of toast with jam but only ended up nibbling on it. Mr. Carson gave her a few worried glances and tried to start conversation, but she replied in one or two words. As some of the servants began dismissing themselves, she had one last sip of tea and excused herself, going straight to her sitting room and not looking anyone in the eye on the way.

So here she is now, elbows perched on her desk, head in hands as she tries to ease the headache coming on. She thinks of what Beryl said this morning, about today not being the first of her early awakenings. Now that she is really giving it some thought, it's been at least three weeks since she's had a good rest. She has barely had an appetite, and the dress she is wearing now is actually looser than normal. She hasn't had an evening talk with Charles in weeks, finding an excuse every time he asks. When he insisted one night to join him she snapped at him, instantly regretting it. He hasn't asked since, every conversation since then tinged with awkwardness.

Thinking harder, she tried to remember when this all began and successfully discovered that it had been since Anna's arrest. Of course. Her dear innocent Anna is locked away in a prison, who knows in what condition and if she will ever get out. She thinks of her every day, sometimes excessively. Over time is just became routine, and she didn't notice those worrying thoughts so much. Until now.

So to answer Beryl's question no, she wasn't alright.

The headache is getting worse but she knows she has her own supply of headache powder on the shelf across the room. Making her way over, gait slow and heavy, her headache goes from dull to sharp and she winces in pain. In doing so she walked into one of her tall side tables, the corner of it stabbing her abdomen. She jolted in shock which caused her to lose her balance and fall to the floor, her wrist and head taking the brunt of the impact. She let out a low moan as a tingling settled over her. Her vision blurred but she tried to fight to stay conscious. Her brain was telling her to yell for help but her body wouldn't respond. Instead she put her energy into staying awake and praying to God that someone would find her soon.

"Mrs. Hughes do you have a mome—MRS. HUGHES!" She could not have heard a lovelier voice. Even the Lord's choir of angels could not sing a song as wonderful as his low baritone. Mr. Carson was at her side in an instant, fear etched in his face. "What happened? What hurts?" His hand was wavering over her body as he didn't know what to do.

Mrs. Hughes managed to say a few choppy sentences. "I walked into…the table and fell…hurt my wrist…banged my head…very hard to….stay awake." Mr. Carson looked down at her wrists to see that her right one was starting to swell. Her left hand was clutching at her abdomen. He gently tilted her face away from him and saw a lump forming on her forehead and hairline. The rapid fluttering of her eyes was starting to slow, which frightened him. She can't fight it much longer. "Try to stay awake Mrs. Hughes. Please fight it." She nodded her head slightly, indicating that she heard him. "I'm going to pick you up off the floor and bring you to the settee." With a nod of consent, he glided one arm under her legs and the other beneath her shoulders. He managed to scoop her up gracefully with a small grunt.

He heard footsteps in the corridor and turned around just in time to see Ms. Baxter walk by. "Ms. Baxter! Come here!"

She appeared in the doorway with wide eyes. "Mr. Carson what happened to her?"

"She fell and banged her head and wrist. I need you to call for Dr. Clarkson, and see if you can get Mrs. Patmore in here as well. Maybe bring a blanket and some ice."

"Right away Mr. Carson!" Ms. Baxter sped off and he could hear her nervous chatter in the distance.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews! I never knew how it felt to actually receive reviews...now I will review every story I read****! I do wonder how Elsie never got a nervous breakdown on the show... it really would have been realistic and interesting to see that side. Anyway, enjoy chapter two****!**

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Elsie stirred slightly in his arms and he realized that he was still standing. He bent over to lay her on the settee but she grabbed his jacket with her good hand. He looked down to see that she was crying, and that her eyes were opening and closing at a much sluggish pace. Defeated, he decided to sit with her still in his arms. He looked down at her again; seeing her struggle was causing him a pain in his chest. Not a pain from eating too quickly, or from a nervous breakdown. No, this was the pain of seeing someone you love suffering.

Ever since Beryl decided that she was going to invest in property, the gears in his head began to turn. He has loved her for so long but it was only recently that it started to affect him. Her presence causes his heart to beat faster. The closeness of sitting together at the dining table releasing butterflies in his stomach, suppressing his appetite. Their night talks relax him to a state he hasn't been in since he's started as Butler. It was almost as if they were in their own cottage together, unwinding from a busy day. And that's when it hit him: _What if I could get her to invest in a property with me?_

She had agreed to this idea, much to his satisfaction. They toured cottages, discussed logistics and spent their spare time talking of the future. Then came her confession about Becky and he felt ashamed, embarrassed. He had said it was from bullying her into it, but really it was because his plan hit an obstacle. _Weren't you supposed to know everything about the one you love?_

But his love for her trumps all and he bought a cottage with both of their names. It was the biggest risk he's ever taken in his life, and his mind is telling him that it was a mistake-_what if she doesn't want to marry you? _His heart, however, is telling him _of course she'll marry you. She loves you. Trust me. _

And then this business with the Bates' came along and she changed. It started with a few things here and there, like tiredness and decreased appetite. But then it morphed into exhaustion, not eating meals at all and screaming at the young maids who really did nothing wrong. She would put herself in her sitting room and only come out to do rounds. She stopped coming to speak with him for pleasure and only came for business. She had practically growled at him when he asked what was wrong. Originally he had thought he did something to upset her, spending several sleepless nights recounting every moment together until he remembered the walk back from the memorial service. She began to get tearful and spoke of shadows of despair. It was so unlike her, especially to show this side of her out in public and around others of the house. He had offered her a simple line of support: we must always travel in hope.

Yet, seeing her now like this, he doesn't think his words had an effect on her outlook. He looks down at her to see that her eyes are closed. He gives her a little shake and her eyes open halfway. "Mrs. Hughes please. You need to stay awake. Dr. Clarkson is almost here."

At that moment Beryl scurried in, with a blanket and a bowl of ice, towels draped over her arm. "What in good heavens happened?" she asked in a shocked whisper.

"She bumped into the table and fell. She must have landed on her wrist and head. It's very difficult to keep her conscious."

Beryl began wrapping the ice in a towel as she spoke. "I knew something like this was going to happen. She's not been eating, or sleeping. When she awoke early again this morning, she looked weak and tired. She dropped one of my cooking bowls."

"I'm worried about her. I think there is more to this than what meets the eye."

"What do you mean? You don't think it's back do you?"

"No. I don't think it's anything physical."

"Then what is it?" She unfolded the blanket and draped it over Mrs. Hughes body, carefully picking up her swollen wrist and placing it on top of the blanket. She then put the ice bundle on her wrist.

Not wanting to talk about Elsie before he had the chance to speak with her, he just shook his head. "I don't know. I just...don't know."

He looked at her again and her eyes were closed. He gave another little shake but she did not wake. "Mrs. Hughes..." He jolted her a little harder but she still would not open her eyes. "Mrs. Hughes you need to wake up. Open your eyes...Elsie!"

At that moment, Dr. Clarkson entered and took in the sight before him. Mrs. Patmore was wringing her hands, facial features sagging with sadness. Mr. Carson held Mrs. Hughes in his arms, a tear rolling down his face.

"Mr. Carson, what's happened?"

"She said she walked into the table and fell. She hurt her wrist and banged her head. I tried to keep her awake but now she won't respond."

Taking his stethoscope out, he listened to her lungs and heart, and then for her pulse. "She's stable enough to move her to her bedroom. I can take a better look at her there."

"I'll go up and prepare the room."

"That would be very helpful Mrs. Patmore. Could you also fetch someone to help her undress into her dressing gown? I won't be able to examine her fully like this."

"I can help with that, it's no issue. Let me head up now."

Mrs. Patmore hurried off, leaving the men and an unconscious Mrs. Hughes behind.

Turning his attention back to Mr. Carson he asked, "When she was speaking was she incoherent in any way?"

"She was not speaking loudly...it was difficult for her to form sentences. She managed to speak two or three words at a time."

"That is a classic sign of a concussion. Did she complain of anything else?"

"No. She was struggling to talk. She was tired after just a few words."

"Let's bring her up to her bedroom."

Carson stood up and led the way. It felt odd to be in the women's quarters but he quickly dismissed that notion. Mrs. Patmore was waiting along with Ms. Baxter. "I hope you don't mind. I figured two bodies would be better than one."

"And I insisted on helping." Ms. Baxter added.

Mr. Carson laid Mrs. Hughes down on her bed, and the two women got right to work. Carson and Dr. Clarkson left the room and closed the door behind them.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks again for your reviews, they really do mean so much! Here it gets heavy on the medical stuff. I tried researching mental illness in that time period and came across some interesting stuff about asylums...in the mid 1800s! For some reason that surprises me...anyway, enjoy!**

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"Judging by what I've seen so far, I think Mrs. Hughes will be fine. She will need a fair amount of bed rest to allow her head to heal. I do still have to examine her wrist."

"Thank you Dr. Clarkson. I'll let you be, and please let me know if there is anything I can do or if you need something." He turned around and took a few steps only to stop. Dr. Clarkson would have to know about his other observations. It could be the reason for her fall, but he knew it was something else entirely...nothing of the physical nature.

Gracefully spinning around, he caught the doctor's eyes staring at him. "Actually, I think there is something else that we need to discuss about Mrs. Hughes."

"Do you remember something else that she told you?"

"Well, it wasn't so much as her saying it than he showing it."

The doctor's face contorted with intrigue as he listened to Mr. Carson speak of his noticings of her behavior and moods. Dr. Clarkson nodded as Carson spoke, mentally logging notes.

"I know you won't tell me what you're thinking, with patient confidentiality and all but please help her in whatever way you can. I...care for her. Like a friend would."

Dr. Clarkson smiled at his last words..._care for her...like a friend would_. "Mr. Carson, I promise you I will do everything in my power to help her. It is obvious that you care for your friend. Although, I dare say you more than care for her like a friend; I do believe you love her."

Carson's mouth dropped just as the doorknob was turning. Clarkson sneaked into the room with an audible "thank you ladies!" and shut the door behind him.

"I'm going to do some mending. Please let me know if there is anything else I can do."

Baxter's voice brought him back to his senses. "Yes Ms. Baxter thank you for your help. I will let you know when I hear more about her condition. And if you can keep this to yourself for now that would be most helpful."

"Of course Mr. Carson." And with that she headed downstairs.

"What was that face for? Did he tell you something about her?"

It took him a moment to figure out that she was talking about his reaction to Dr. Clarkson's. "Oh...no. He said that he is certain she will be fine."

"Did you tell him about her behavior?" she whispered.

"I did and naturally he didn't say anything about it. We just have to wait and see what he says."

"Let's go downstairs. I'll make us some tea."

After some time, Dr. Clarkson made his way downstairs and asked to speak to Mr. Carson. He and Mrs. Patmore had told the staff what had happened and every single one of them expressed their worries. Barrow offered to serve lunch and dinner, but Mr. Carson politely declined despite being taken aback by his offer. The family was already made aware and they were just as worried, if not more, as the staff. So now whole the house was waiting on news, while somehow trying to get back to their routine.

Carson invites him into his sitting room as Daisy brings in a tray of tea. They sit in silence as they prepare their cuppas and Carson is anxious for Dr. Clarkson to start the conversation.

"Mr. Carson, before I tell you about her condition, I do want to apologize for my comment earlier. It wasn't an appropriate time to say that, no matter how true it is."

A smirk erupted on Clarkson's face and Carson knew that he was going to have to admit it sometime soon. So why not now?

"Well Dr. Clarkson you're right. I care for her more than a friend, much more. I love Mrs. Hughes. And I don't want her to slip away from me right when I was gathering the courage to tell her." He looked down at the floor, nose crinkling to try to prevent a breakdown. Clarkson heard his inhale and say, "How is she?"

"The biggest of her worries at the moment is the concussion. We won't know how bad it is until she wakes up. But seeing how some of the fall was broken by her wrist, I think it is mild. Her wrist doesn't appear to be broken, just sprained. There is a small bruise forming on her abdomen from where she hit the table. That area will be sore for a few days. She's dehydrated as well so as soon as she wakes up, she needs to drink. She will need lots of rest, which will be hard for her to do but she must oblige." Carson nodded his head, partly to say that he was listening and partly for him to continue to the part that is worrying him. "As far as her behavior goes, I think some of it is to blame for her fall. If she hasn't been sleeping or eating, then that would explain the dehydration and weakness. Her irritability and isolation is quite concerning, considering that it has been going on for several weeks."

Carson's eyes were pleading with him to continue, to put him out of his misery. "I would need more information from her once she's awake but the signs point to depression."

Depression. His fiery Scottish dragon, full of strength and hope with depression. She hides it so well from everyone, with the exception of Mrs. Patmore and Mr. Carson. He knew there was more to the Bates situation than she let on, or perhaps it is something else entirely that she is not telling him?

"Depression is something that is getting more medical research now, especially since the end of the war. It is not something to be ashamed of. We're not sure of the causes just yet, most research points to events in one's life that are stressful, sad or tragic. It is very hard to cope with, and can be fatal when not treated."

At this Mr. Carson looked dumbfounded. "Fatal? How?"

"If depression goes untreated, then the symptoms worsen, along with the worrying, hopelessness and negative thinking. Life becomes unbearable for the sufferer, escalating to the point of where suicide is believed to be the only option." Seeing Carson's face move with realization he asked, "Has she said anything that alerts you?"

He instantly thought of the walk back from the service and her dreary words. He could only whisper, "She has."

"The treatment is tricky, since research is just starting to pick up. She will need lots of positivity in her life, lots of love and lots of comfort. She needs to feel like she matters. There is no medication that aids as of yet. She will just need to be watched for." He looked at Carson who was processing this information, coming to terms with everything.

"For years I have loved this woman. And it has taken me the same amount of time to realize that I am in love with her. I've been toying with the idea of marriage for some years now, and only recently got the courage to introduce property investment, a beginning to my scheme I guess you could say." A chuckle escapes his lips as he continues, "I think this is fate telling me to just hurry up with it and ask her."

"If fate were a woman she would say 'I've been telling you this all along!"

The two men laughed and Charles never felt so sure of the future.

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_Two_ _words_: _Sassypants_ _Clarkson_.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you again for your wonderful reviews. Here is the final part of the saga. I kind of wanted to not necessarily cut it short but to leave it at an appropriate place. Hopefully you'll enjoy it :)**

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He decided to accept Barrow's offer for serving lunch and dinner, in exchange of sharing information about Mrs. Hughes's condition with him and the rest of the staff. He told everything but the bit about the depression because he feels it is a matter that they need to discuss privately. The staff was relieved to hear that she will make a recovery and were able to more easily go about their day. Mr. Carson decided that his role is not so much butler at this moment as it is friend, lover, soulmate. He sat by her bedside, holding the bundle of ice on her wrist, taking it off after some time as Dr. Clarkson instructed. He had a pitcher of water and a glass, along with some headache powder for when she woke. Now it was a waiting game to see when she will wake up.

This waiting game is not a fun one to play, not only because of the anticipation of her awakening, but because it gave him time to think. To think of everything he could have had, the life he could have shared with her if he had just spoken up sooner. The thought that maybe she won't wake up from this after all.

No that was silly. All she did was bump into the table and fall. That does not warrant death in his eyes, it's something everyone recovers from. _Well almost everyone. There was that time during your theater days where that one bloke fell off the stage and never woke up._ 'Okay that's quite enough' he tells himself. She will recover; there is no doubt in his mind, at least tries to convince himself of that anyways.

The more important thought that he should be focusing on is when she wakes up. _What will I say to her? How do I bring up the.._

Dr. Clarkson had said to give her some time, to bring up the subject lightly or in a way that will get her to talk first. _"Depression leaves an individual fragile, especially if they don't think anything is wrong. She may act strong and deny everything, but you must somehow convince her to open up and allow help."_ Dr. Clarkson's words had made him quite uneasy and he was nervous as to how to fix this without destroying the relationship he worked so hard to solidify.

He would have to think of his words carefully, perhaps practice them in the mirror like a script, anticipating every reaction. He wanted to tell her he loves her, wants to marry her, wants to spend every waking moment in her presence, tending to her needs and desires. He doesn't want to ever see her suffer in pain or anguish.

_Then tell her that. Right now. Tell her now so when you say it again when she's awake it will be easier._

"Elsie darling," he begins, taking her good hand in both of his and peppering it with tender kisses. "I love you. I always have, for years as I've just realized recently. Spending decades working by your side day by day has spoiled me. During your cancer scare I was so frightened, so worried that I would lose you. I honestly didn't think of a life without you here with me. Since that point my heart beats even faster when you are close, the butterflies in my stomach multiply and soar through my chest, sending tingles everywhere. My dormant love for you grew each day to the point where every inch of my body swells with affection for you."

He pauses to collect his thoughts, absentmindedly rubbing intricate designs on her hand. "Seeing you these past few weeks has devastated me. I knew something was terribly wrong and I wanted to know what it was, so I could help be rid of it. It pains me to see you endure this on your own." Sadness is evident in his voice now as his emotions are running full force. "I want you to tell me your thoughts. I want to battle these demons with you. I want to hold you tight as you cry your soul into my shoulder, to yell and scream to let out frustration, to adorn you with kisses when you need extra love. I don't want you to fight and lose because I honestly don't think I can live in this world without you as my tender, loving, strong Elsie."

He is tearing up now; having said the words out loud brings his love for her to a whole new level. He places another kiss on her hand and let's it linger there for a short while. He lifts his head to see that her eyes are open and she is crying rivers down her mountainous cheeks. "Oh my dear Elsie."

The rivers turn to waterfalls as she sobs, Charles wasting no time in enveloping her into his love. He felt whole with her and he could stay like this for the rest of his life if he wanted to. He stroked her hair and back, attempting to warm her cold body. He held her until she quieted; whether it was minutes or an hour he did not care. Her breathing finally became even and she pulled away from him, covering her face with her hands to try to wipe away the sadness.

"It seems I have ruined your shirt."

"The shirt is the very last thing I am worried about." He reaches into his pocket to grab his handkerchief and dries her face. His expression tightens as he asks, "How long were you awake?"

She looks at him with loving eyes, pooling again. "Long enough to hear every last word of devotion." Tears are spilling again but they are not from sorrow.

"My love, I was so afraid to tell you what I just did when you were conscious. I'm now glad that you were awake to hear it all."

"Because you didn't want to repeat yourself?" she smirked teasingly, sponging her eyes with his handkerchief.

"Because I don't think I could have said it any better. And just for your information, I don't mind repeating myself. I will tell you the same thing everyday if you wish, several times a day if you need reminders."

She glanced away sheepishly, a smile spreading across her face.

"And whenever you wish to talk about whatever is gnawing at your mind, I will drop what I'm doing and listen. I will listen in the morning, afternoon or night. I will listen when you come to me at three in the morning. I will listen when you slam doors and raise your voice. I will because I, Charles Carson love you, Elsie Hughes."

At this Elsie lunged towards Charles and his quick reflexes caught her. He embraced her again, relishing in how simple it was to feel so at peace.

"And I, Elsie Hughes, love you too."


End file.
